


Natural Progression

by cobalamincosel



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23379199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobalamincosel/pseuds/cobalamincosel
Summary: Alone time is good, but Mark is antsy.He just needs something. Someone to make him feel better.‘Fuck it,’ Mark thinks. ‘Fuck it.’And texts Johnny, “Hey, you awake? Wanna grab a beer and hang?”
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 40
Kudos: 552





	Natural Progression

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my DMs and my drafts for months. I finally unearthed her, repurposed her, and made her new. 
> 
> This is for every new Johnmarkist that has come out of the woodwork lately. We are starting to thrive as a nation and I couldn't be happier! 
> 
> For Ain, Dia, Mel, Any and Casey who all read this when I Would Not Shut Up About Johnmark starting November 2019.

Mark stares at his phone, exhaustion bone-deep as he sinks into the mattress. His manager isn't in tonight, so he has the room to himself-- a rarity lately. Alone time.

He's forgotten what that felt like, has forgotten what it meant to be able to have some quiet to himself. It takes glancing at his phone to even remember that it's a Friday night. All he knows are yesterdays, todays, and tomorrows anymore. Some days he will wake up and find himself whisked off to another country, trudging through immigration and pulling his passport out and nodding to the officer and strapping himself into the seat. Some days he forgets how he ends up back home in his dorm room. Sometimes he lives out of his luggage, not bothering to remove clothes from his hard shell suitcase, knowing he's going to be leaving again soon anyway.

It's exhausting, and he feels unmoored.

Alone time is good, but Mark is antsy.

He scrolls idly, not really paying attention to what goes on on his screen. He wonders where the other members are, but he can't be bothered to read through the 100+ messages that he's missed on their group chat.

He just needs something. Someone to make him feel better. If Mark is honest with himself, there's already been someone on his mind anyway.

‘Fuck it,’ Mark thinks. ‘Fuck it.’

And texts Johnny, “Hey, you awake? Wanna grab a beer and hang?”

There’s beer in their ref courtesy of Yuta and Taeil. He doesn’t think they’d mind if he broke into the stash.

Johnny responds almost immediately, “You sure u don’t wanna sleep? Aren’t you jetlagged?”

It feels equal parts hopeful and dismissive. Mark figures Johnny is giving him an out, that he’s being considerate. It is true. Mark’s entire sleep system is fucked anyway— has been since he was 15 as it is, but he’s okay. He just misses Johnny, has missed Johnny since he’s been jet-setting with Super M.

He wonders if Johnny would be up for something more. It has been a while since they've done anything, but he still thinks about their last time getting hot and heavy in Johnny's old room before their move to the new dorm and how good Mark had felt after it, sated like it could last him months, and it had, since he'd had no choice.

But more than wanting to make out with Johnny, Mark really just misses spending time with him, so he responds with, “I’m good. Meet you at the balcony? I've got the beer but if you have anything stronger you can bring it."

Johnny responds fairly quickly with a "Sure, I'll bring the Jack. Just us?"

Just us, Johnny asks. Like he knows what Mark has planned.

"Yeah, please," Mark texts back before throwing his covers off and pulling his Vancouver hoodie over his head.

He cracks his spine, stretches and reaches down to his toes before he straightens up and grabs the cap resting on his dresser on his way out of the room.

The kitchen is quiet, a single light on in the hallway. He can hear the sounds of some EDM track coming from Yuta and Taeil's room. He pulls out four cans of beer from the refrigerator and walks over to their balcony, keeping the light off. The light from the hall will do, Mark figures.

Mark’s sat with his back to the sliding glass door when he hears the ‘shick’ sound of it opening and closing in place, and then he’s standing up to give Johnny a one-armed hug, which Johnny reciprocates by pulling Mark in with both his arms, lifting him off the ground and surprising Mark enough to make him yelp.

This is the shit that makes Mark giddy, makes him remember exactly why he texted Johnny in particular to spend time and unwind with.

It’s a little pathetic, how long he’s carried this small, eternal fucking flame for Johnny Suh. What used to be admiration has morphed into longing; what used to only be awe is now laced with a sort of lust that, as the time passes, becomes so inextricable that Mark feels like it’s that only thing that flows in his veins anymore.

He tries not to overthink it though. Their lives are complicated, lived in the public eye for the most part. He and Johnny will fool around once in a while and Mark does his best to not read too much into it when it happens. He knows that Johnny loves him, and Johnny likes to take care of him. That's more than enough.

They pop their cans of beer and knock them dully together.

Johnny is dressed, as usual, in his brown hoodie and his Hawkins sweats. Mark pulls his own grey hood up, the wind picking up speed as Johnny asks him about the SuperM tour.

“I saw the videos, dude,” Johnny says, a small “ahhh” escaping his lips after he takes a long pull from his own can of Asahi.

“You were something else,” Johnny continues. “Your solo? Jesus. I’m sure all the fans lost their shit.”

Mark flushes under this sort of praise. All modesty aside, he hears this a lot. Fans will shout it, write it in letters, reply to him on Twitter, trend hashtags. But praise from Johnny? It’s always the kind that makes him flush head to toe. Makes him beam up at his hyung. It makes him want to preen at the attention.

“Did you hear the crowd rapping along to your verse in 'Jopping'?” Johnny asks, and Mark flushes even more.

“Yeah,” Mark replies. “That was... God. Surreal.”

And it had been: him standing backstage, testing his in-ears before pulling them off entirely because— the chanting he heard wasn’t so much a chant but.

It was his verse.

Madison Square Garden, singing along to his verse for their debut song.

Mark recounts what that was like for him, and Johnny is smiling through the entire thing, Johnny laughing out loud when Mark tells him something that Baekhyun had said, because of course, it was Baekhyun-hyung.

“Did you see my shoutout to you in Chicago?” Mark asks, taking a swig from his own beer and setting the can down on the little table between them.

“Yeah,” Johnny says, and he looks so warm in his hoodie, illuminated in the yellow light behind him.

The music quiets from inside. The rest of the floor is asleep, or at least seems to be. Out here, Mark can pretend that it’s just the two of them.

“Thank you for that,” Johnny says. “Mom said you were fantastic and that you guys did so well. She was gushing when she called me up.”

They’d managed to meet Johnny’s mom briefly backstage, and she’d pulled every single one of them into a hug. It was so similar to Johnny’s warmth that it had made Mark’s heart clench with that pesky longing again.

“You should have seen Ten-hyung go in for the hug,” Mark says. “He was in tears.”

“Well, considering that it’s been years since they last saw each other, can’t say I blame him,” Johnny laughs. “I’m really glad she was there to see you guys. Was the food she made okay?”

“Are you kidding me? No one, no one makes tteokbokki like your mom does. It was so good,” Mark says. “Taemin-hyung was especially happy to be eating actual Korean food that night. We ate well thanks to her.”

Johnny seems extremely pleased to hear this, and he’s beaming at little before he clears his throat and says, “I’m really proud of you, Mark.”

It is a serious thing. Johnny’s not joking around. It makes Mark pause in his movements, but he does say, “Thanks, man,” slowly, giving Johnny a small smile.

“I'm serious, Markie. I’m like,” Johnny starts. “I’ve always known you were good, you know? I knew it the day I met you. Always knew you were gonna take this company to heights it has never seen, and every damn day you catch me off-guard with something new.”

It’s a lot. It’s too much. Mark has nowhere else to look, can’t keep his eyes off of Johnny who is looking out over the city, the lights reflecting in his eyes, right before he turns and locks his gaze with Mark, this laser-like focus on him that makes Mark’s heart pick up the pace.

He doesn’t know what makes him do it, but he’s standing, eyes still on Johnny, who follows his movements until Mark is standing right in front of Johnny, obscuring the city lights behind him, and yet Johnny’s eyes are still shining.

Mark licks his lips.

“Uh,” Mark starts very smoothly. “I’m. Gonna kiss you. Is that okay? I know it's been a while but I really want to kiss you."

Johnny is looking up at him, a slow, slow smile appearing on his face.

“Mark, are you drunk?”

Mark barely feels anything. One beer does nothing to him now, contrary to popular belief.

“No, why?”

“Because if you want to kiss me, I would like very much for you to be sure,” Johnny say. “I would like for you to not regret it.”

This doesn’t sound like a no, so Mark steps closer.

“Johnny, I am not drunk, and when have I ever regretted kissing you?” Mark states in plain English, no slurring, nothing.

Johnny licks his lips.

He brings his hands to Mark’s hips, and Mark can feel that he’s trembling.

“Just making sure," Johnny whispers. "I want to kiss you, too. It's been too long."

Johnny is craning his neck up to look at Mark, who leans down and leans in, and presses his cold lips to Johnny’s.

It isn’t clear who whines first, but it becomes incredibly clear that this one kiss isn’t going to remain with just the one, not when Johnny is cupping Mark’s face in his hands, not when Mark is stepping closer, and definitely not when Johnny is bringing Mark’s hips closer until Mark is folding his knee and pressing into the cushion of the seat Johnny is sitting in.

Johnny’s tongue is clever, laving small kitten licks at Mark’s lower lip before Johnny starts taking it between his teeth and biting down. 

Mark is now straddling Johnny, knees on either side of his hips, and he doesn’t expect the hands on his back to trail lower until Johnny’s pushing Mark down, anchoring him with his hands, and Johnny is grinding up into Mark’s ass and—

“Oh,” Mark gasps. “Oh my god, you’re so hard.” 

Johnny pulls back from pressing small kisses onto Mark’s jaw to say, “Is this okay?”

Mark can't believe what he's hearing. Is this okay? Is this _okay?_ As if this hasn't been his constant wet dream for the past couple of months? 

Mark grinds down on Johnny's lap, the very obvious erection pressing into the curve of his ass while Johnny slides his lips over Mark's pulse point. 

"Yeah," Mark sighs, eyes sliding closed. "Yeah, this is everything I've ever wanted."

Johnny pulls back slowly, making Mark huff out in annoyance. He looks so fucking cocky, so smug, and all Mark wants to do is to kiss that expression away. 

"Yeah? How long have you wanted this?" Johnny whispers, his hands spanning the length of Mark's back. “Have you been thinking about this since the last time?” 

"You know I have," Mark laughs, ducking to hide his face on Johnny's shoulder. “Shut up.”

Johnny nudges him, makes him look at him. 

"What made you so bold tonight then?" Johnny asks, his eyes searching Mark's face.

Mark brings his hands to Johnny's face, to trace over cheekbones he hadn't expected to feel so sharp under his thumbs. 

"I missed you," Mark whispers. "I missed you so much when we were on tour. I'm honestly so tired of holding myself back, so I decided to shoot my shot."

“You could have asked sooner,” Johnny says, bringing Mark close, lips on his jaw. “I’ve always just waited for you.” 

Mark is losing himself steadily, slowly. He wants to spill every sordid secret, wants to tell Johnny about every fantasy he’s ever had, but he can’t even make words out. He can barely remember his name, now that Johnny has sunk his teeth gently into the skin over his clavicle, his too-loose hoodie riding down.

Johnny’s hands find their way under Mark’s jacket, thumbs stroking over Mark’s hip bones. 

“Mark, you want this too, right?” Johnny asks, and Mark has to open his eyes. Johnny sounds scared, so unlike himself. “You one hundred percent want this, too?” 

Mark looks Johnny in the eye, strokes his thumb over Johnny’s eyelashes. 

“I one hundred percent want this, too, Johnny,” Mark replies.

It’s all Johnny needs to surge up, to crush Mark against his chest, to find Mark’s lips and slide his own over them, the kiss an exhale after the tension Johnny had found himself laced with. 

Mark moans into Johnny’s mouth, his thighs squeezing against Johnny’s hips, grinding down, hoping for any sort of friction. Johnny’s hand is palming him through his shorts, and Mark grips tighter on Johnny’s shoulders as he rocks into Johnny’s hand. It takes an embarrassingly short span of minutes for Mark’s cock to fill up with blood and stiffen under Johnny’s ministrations, but Johnny seems unfazed, seems more pleased than anything else, really.

“We’re like teenagers,” Johnny laughs against Mark’s skin. “God, I wish I could get you naked right now.” 

It’s risky enough that they’re doing this on the balcony where anyone with a tele-lens could be looking, but neither of them can help it anymore, not when they’re finally kissing, not when Mark is finally where he’s wanted to be for the last couple of months. 

“Fuck,” Mark mutters. “Johnny-hyung, please touch me.” 

And Johnny, Mark finds, can’t seem to resist him.

Johnny gently slides the garter of Mark’s shorts down, and takes Mark’s cock out, flushed and hard, curved up toward his belly. 

“This for me?” Johnny jokes, licking his lips, his grip loose around the base, jacking Mark slowly. 

Mark’s hips make minute movements, jerking up to meet Johnny’s hand. Johnny lets go, and holds his hand up near Mark’s mouth. 

“Spit,” Johnny says, and it is so fucking filthy, this request, but Mark does it, spits in Johnny’s hand before Johnny wraps it around Mark’s shaft.

It feels so, so fucking good. Mark can’t even begin to fathom how much, since the feeling of Johnny’s adept fingers adding just the right amount of pressure around Mark’s cock has rendered him incapable of thinking anything that isn’t “fuck” and “Johnny”. 

Johnny is moaning into Mark’s mouth, given that Mark’s hips haven’t stopped moving since Johnny started touching. 

“You’re—“ Johnny breaks off just as Mark presses down on him. “You’re gonna make me cum in my joggers.”

“No, I’m not,” Mark says, breathless. “I’m gonna make you cum in my mouth.”

Johnny bangs his forehead softly on Mark’s chest when he says that, his insides clenching, his willpower barely holding on. 

“Are you trying to make me cum in record time?” Johnny says, just as Mark starts to rise up on his knees and moves to kneel in front of Johnny. 

“Maybe?” Mark says, his hands on Johnny’s thighs. 

“This is dangerous,” Johnny says, his breathing shallow. 

“You’re not stopping me though?” Mark smiles up at him, and Mark uses whatever confidence he’s built up from being the person he is onstage with Super M to spread Johnny’s legs apart.

“Hey,” Johnny says, scrambling for purchase. “Hey, hey, hey.” 

His breathing is so labored, Mark wonders if he’s going to pass out. Johnny has his hand on Mark’s jaw, thumb stroking gently over Mark’s cheekbone, before he pulls Mark up to kneel by taking Mark’s face in both hands. 

“Your room’s empty, right?” Johnny says, leaning down to kiss Mark again, lips soft and kiss chaste despite how charged the air is between them. 

Mark smiles and rises to his feet, taking Johnny by the hand. 

“Come on,” Mark says. “I want you without having to keep it down.” 

This makes Johnny laugh as he stands to follow Mark. 

“We’re still gonna have to keep it down, Markie,” Johnny says, taking his bottle of Jack Daniels under his arm and tossing back the last of his beer before crushing the can in his fist. 

Mark just glances over his shoulder to make sure Johnny is following him. 

“Fine,” is all Mark says before they’re making their way to Mark’s room. 

When Mark closes the door behind him and presses down on the lock, Johnny’s already set the remaining alcohol on Mark’s dresser. He takes the two steps to bring Mark up against the door, and Mark hauls him down by the collar of his hoodie to bring Johnny’s lips to his. 

This kiss is desperate, heated well beyond where it had been just moments prior. Mark kisses Johnny with fervor, the slide of his lips searing just as Johnny’s tongue slides into Mark’s mouth. 

“Missed you,” Johnny whispers against his mouth. “Missed this.” 

It has been far, far too long since Mark’s had the pleasure of having Johnny Suh kiss him senseless. The last time hadn’t even lasted that long-- hurried blowjobs and languid kisses in Johnny and Taeyong’s shared room in the few hours they had with each other before the rest of the members returned home from their night out. 

Mark wonders belatedly, as Johnny takes his lower lip between his teeth and bites down, if Johnny had replayed their last time over and over the way Mark has this entire time, if he’d thought about Mark on his knees for him, if he’d fisted his cock to the memory of it like Mark has had to do. 

Johnny has his hands cradling Mark’s hips, and the erection that had softened in their move from the balcony to his room begins to take shape full force as Johnny presses his hips against Mark’s. His skin comes alive, burning up where Johnny’s butterfly kisses dot their way from his jaw to his neck. Mark holds on to the cloth of Johnny’s hoodie lightly, anticipating the next touch as Johnny’s fingers start to skim the garter of Mark’s shorts. 

“Come to bed,” Mark says, his head tipped back against the door. 

Johnny relinquishes his hold on Mark so that Mark can take him by the wrist and bring him to his bed. The green comforter is pushed to the end of Mark’s bed, and Mark nearly trips on his guitar in his haste, making Johnny catch his fall and set Mark on the edge of the bed while Johnny takes the guitar and brings it over to their manager’s bed which is still made up. He’s not set to come back to the dorms tonight. 

Mark lies flat on his back as Johnny pulls the hem of his hoodie up and over his head, tousling his dark hair. Johnny Suh is devastating to Mark, especially when he reveals the planes of skin that cover hardened muscles now that Johnny’s taken his workout regimen seriously for their impending comeback. 

Johnny is a whisper away, pressing in close to Mark’s side. The hurried frenzy of earlier seems to give way to something more quiet, more measured and slow. He lies on his side, his elbow and his hand propping his head out while Johnny’s right hand slides under Mark’s hoodie. 

The way Johnny touches him is reverential, and Mark can’t believe that he’s gone so long without this. He wonders if this is what people who stave off of cigarettes or sugar feel like. There’s a heady feeling that flows through him as Johnny kisses him again, again, wet slide and heat that locks Mark in and steals his breath. 

Johnny is in his space, breathing his air, exhaling a lungful against Mark’s lips, soft and sweet despite the beer he’d down before this. It sort of smells like vanilla somewhere, Mark remarks, as his eyes slide closed, Johnny’s lips gentle, his tongue against Mark’s.

Mark is dizzy, lips tingling, the tips of his fingers cold as he traces the hard muscle of Johnny’s back. It feels like his limbs had fallen asleep and are only getting circulation back now. 

God, it is embarrassing how hard Mark is right now, and how close he already feels just from the pressure against his crotch as he turns in bed to press his front against Johnny’s. He wants to rut into Johnny’s heat, wants to fuck into the hand pressed against Mark’s hipbone, and when Johnny undoes the strings to his shorts, Mark feels like he’s teetering on the edge.

Johnny is still kissing him, but Mark breaks away when Johnny’s hand, smooth and soft and firm in its grip takes Mark and strokes him. Mark wonders if how Johnny is stroking him is how Johnny probably touches himself, and it takes every single drop of willpower for Mark to not blow his load in Johnny’s hand right there.

“I— Jesus, Mark, you’re so beautiful,” Johnny says, breathing shallow against Mark’s lips. Mark is moaning, he can’t help it, not when Johnny’s hand feels so good, so much better than every fantasy Mark has had of him, so much better than he remembers.

His thoughts, barely coherent as it is, are completely derailed when Johnny cups his balls gently and squeezes, before stroking up the length and rubbing his palm right against Mark’s cockhead.

Mark needs— something, anything, a tether. He tries to close his legs, he’s already so close, but Johnny’s got his thigh trapped between his own, and Mark is straining, groaning “fuck, Johnny, oh my god faster,” just Johnny starts jacking him in earnest.

He hurries to get his hands on Johnny, bring him closer so he can tug Johnny’s sweats down while Mark moves to rest the side of his head on Johnny’s bicep. They’re so close that the air between them is humid and stifling, but Mark doesn’t dare move away, not when Johnny manages to push his pants halfway down past his thighs, his heavy, turgid cock curving up toward his belly before Mark takes it in hand. 

Johnny groans when Mark’s warm hand takes him from base to tip, and Mark relies on what little muscle memory he has from the few times he’s touched Johnny to tighten the circle of his fingers while he drags along Johnny’s length. 

Johnny’s baritone is rich in Mark’s ear as they barely kiss, only breathe the same air as they stroke each other at varying speeds. Mark thinks he’s on the verge of exploding, and he can barely coordinate his hand to follow his command when he’s fucking into Johnny’s tight hot grip. 

It registers to Mark belatedly that he’s babbling, and he can’t believe the words spilling from his mouth as he buries his face in Johnny’s neck. 

Mark is spilling his heart out as he pistons his hips up against Johnny’s movements, telling Johnny how next time he wants to fuck into Johnny’s ass, into Johnny’s mouth. He sees stars as he feels his orgasm build and build, as he tells Johnny how when he was in San Diego he’d jacked off thinking about Johnny fucking him, how he wonders why they haven’t done that yet, how he hopes that next time, they will. 

“Mark, you’re so-- fuck, the mouth on you,” Johnny whispers in wonder. “Shit, I’m close.”

“Come on, Johnny,” Mark says, losing himself in the sensation of Johnny’s hand still stroking him. He doesn’t even know how he’s lasted as long as he has since he’s been on edge the entire time. There is precum slicking its way on both their cocks, and it is incredible how good it feels to have Johnny touch him like this. Johnny can play him like a fucking fiddle and Mark’s body would still sing like this. 

Mark feels his entire world implode on itself when Johnny shifts his hand to link it with Mark’s, their fingers intertwined as Johnny brings his cock flush against Mark’s. 

“Mark, Mark, lube, come on,” Johnny sounds like he’s slurring, like he drunk on this, and Mark scrambles to reach overhead, knocking over his lotion and his hand sanitizer to reveal the small, clear, nondescript bottle of lubricant he keeps in plain sight for easy access, thank fuck. Johnny takes the bottle as he ruts his cock into the dip of Mark’s hip, squeezing a generous amount into his hand before taking Mark’s hand once again and making a vice grip around their joined cocks. 

Mark is losing his mind, his vision swimming given that his glasses had gotten tossed somewhere between the door and the bed, but he can see clearly enough from his angle the way the red tip of his cock slides along the turgid purple of Johnny’s erection, and he cries out before Johnny swallows his moan in a searing kiss, their hips moving in tandem, and then Mark is gone, gone, vision whiting out as his orgasm rips through his spine and through his entire body, the heat of his cum spilling over his and Johnny’s joined hands, slicking the way for Johnny’s cock before Mark takes control, barely able to coordinate his movements as he thumbs over Johnny’s sensitive cock, until Johnny groans loud and deep from his chest, strings of his ejaculate all over his belly, Mark’s hand, Mark’s chest. 

They break apart on either side of the bed, Mark’s head still pillowed on Johnny’s bicep, the muscle’s hardness offset by the actual pillow that Johnny is resting on. Their chests are heaving, and Mark huffs out a sudden laugh that makes Johnny giggle as well, before Johnny uses his right hand to hide his face. Mark can see how red-tipped his ears are. 

They’re a mess, it’s all a mess between them, wet with cum and lube and spit, and Mark is going to have to change his sheets if either of them intend to sleep on the bed tonight. 

“Mark Lee,” Johnny says, staring up at the ceiling, dazed smile on his face. “I am _so_ far gone for you, dude.” 

This makes warmth settle in Mark’s chest. They don’t really talk _feelings_ when it comes to these things.

He’s calm though. He’s long lost the ability to feel fear when it comes to Johnny. Huh, imagine that.

Mark knows that they need to clean up, and he really should get up to do that, but Johnny’s using his hoodie to wipe the mess off his (Jesus Lord Christ almighty— Mark needs to stop salivating) abs and Mark feels too boneless to move. All he wants to do is curl up into Johnny’s side and fall asleep.

“What do you mean ‘far gone’?” Mark asks, scrunching his nose up when Johnny cleans him up. “Also, you better be washing that on your own.”

“Oh my god, I’m not gonna let our dorm aunt see this ever, I’m washing this myself!” Johnny says, affronted. “What kind of monster do you take me for?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Mark says, laughing into Johnny’s neck again. “What do you mean, ‘far gone’?”

“Meaning that you should text me more often for booty calls,” Johnny laughs. “And maybe dinners to Italian restaurants. And maybe coffee dates. I dunno. That kind of thing.”

Mark pulls away, glancing at the foot of his bed where his glasses are perched precariously. He reaches for them, rests them on his nose, readjusts his shorts and sits cross legged next to Johnny, looking down at him.

Johnny has both arms crossed under his head to prop himself up. Mark traces his body with his eyes, over the clavicles that jut out from Johnny’s position, over the armpit hair that Mark knows will be nonexistent next month when they film the music video for their comeback, over the pecs that didn’t used to look quite as defined as they do now.

“Johnny-hyung, are you telling me you wanna date me?” Mark asks, and he can’t hide the smile on his face at all. Johnny closes his eyes momentarily, and then opens them again, his eyes searching Mark’s face.

“Yeah, I do,” Johnny says. “I mean, that is if you feel the same way. I don’t want to complicate things with us, you know? But I like you. That much is obvious.”

Mark feels himself blush at the words. Mark may speak freely and often he’ll get made fun of for it, but no one can beat Johnny Suh when he turns the full weight of his ability to romance someone onto them.

“Hyung, how can you not know?” Mark says, pulling his green comforter over to him and moving to curl up next to Johnny. Johnny’s hair is sticking up at his forehead. His skin is a little splotchy. Mark kisses the mole on Johnny’s cheek.

“Not know what?” Johnny asks, bringing Mark in close, closer, ensconced in his arms and the thick duvet.

“That I wanna date you,” Mark says, arms sliding around Johnny’s waist, snuggling closer. “I like you. That much is obvious.”

“A little,” Johnny says. “But I still wanted to hear it from you.”

Mark’s air-conditioning is on too high, and he’s cold despite being in his jacket and under the covers. He doesn’t mind. Just another excuse to burrow in deeper.

“Well then, I guess we’re dating,” Mark says before stifling a yawn.

“Oh, that simple?” Johnny laughs.

“We’ll figure the logistics out later,” Mark says. “I just like that I don’t have to be shy about booty calls now.”

“You only want me for my body, is that what this is?” Johnny pretend-cries.

“No, shut up,” Mark laughs, and tilts his head back so he can look at Johnny, who in turn looks down fondly at him. “You know it’s not just that.”

Johnny pulls Mark in, always pulling Mark in, some gravity that Mark cannot resist, and kisses him.

As sleep starts to take both of them, Mark realizes that he doesn’t feel the same all-consuming exhaustion that he’d felt earlier. All of a sudden, his night has ended with him agreeing to date his member, and his body feels inexplicably light.

Its implications should be catastrophic, but there’s not any sort of fear here. Being with Johnny in this capacity just feels like the natural progression to things for Mark. He doubts that either of them are in the l-word sorta phase yet, but this is nice. This is easy.

Mark has enough mental faculty to reach out blindly for his phone while simultaneously pulling his glasses off and away from his tired eyes so he can set his alarms. Johnny sniffles from the cold, and tucks his chin over Mark’s head as Mark makes himself comfortable on Johnny’s bicep yet again.

Mark sinks into the feeling of being held, being cradled in the way that only Johnny can and knows how.

A kiss on his forehead is the last thing he remembers before he slips under.


End file.
